Harry Potter And The Wizard's War
by MoondustWolf
Summary: Yet another version of Book 7. This one is complete ith a boring title and really speedy sequence of events! It's basically all sorts of theories tied together with drama, action, tragedy and humor. Oh, and eventually, the end of . . .well, you'll see R
1. Privet Drive Once More

It is, at long last, Harry Potter's final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Witchery. While Harry sees no reason to return to school, fate has different plans. The prophesy must be fulfilled, and as uneventful days drag on, Harry's fears increase. He can only prepare himself for the fact that sometime, somewhere, anytime, anywhere, he will face his death, knowing he and Voldemort cannot live together in the world. One final battle will cause more loss than all there has been so far. But there is always more than what can be seen. For Harry Potter, it all comes down, at long last, to the very end.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If owned HP, the books would be released once every two months and never end. I own characters I invent. The others belong to Jo.

**Harry Potter and the Wizard's War**

**Chapter 1: Privet Drive Once More**

Harry Potter lay facedown on the bed of the smallest bedroom at Number 4, Privet Drive. He lay there without the will to get up, walk around, or indeed do anything that involved actual movement. He had been in this position for the majority of the summer holiday, moving only to eat, and to check on the damage of the war in the wizarding world.

He was at the point, though, where he even considered not eating anymore, either, and just rotting away. He knew, more than anything, that he was needed in his world, at his home, knew that he was the chosen one. And, ashamed as he was to admit it now, he had truly believed Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger would be spending this time with him.

Harry sighed, the only sound he had the energy to make, and rolled over onto his back. He turned his head so his glazed eyes stared out the window. How was it possible that only a year ago, Albus Dumbledore himself had come to take Harry from the Dursleys', marking the beginning of his sixth year at Hogwarts, a year that would be marked by the regal replacement to Fudge's Minister of Magic title, unexpected relationships, lessons on Voldemort's past from Dumbledore himself, and a new Potions teacher, giving the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at last to Severus Snape, who Dumbledore trusted, and who, at the end of the year had killed the headmaster in cold blood before Harry's eyes?

Harry turned his head the other way again, deciding the bright sunlight was making his eyes sting. Bleakly, he stared at the clock, and realized the muggle newspaper would soon be arriving.

With the effort of what felt like lifting a potato sack filled with lead, Harry dangled his legs from the bed to the floor and stood up. He dragged himself down the stairs and out the front door, where he dropped to sit on the porch. The Dursleys did not prevent him seeing the news anymore, for now even they could not deny the presence of "the M word". Harry no longer felt any tension waiting for the paper to come, for there was no longer any question as to what kind of news would be found inside it.

The delivery boy riding past on his bike carefully avoided looking at Harry as he tossed a copy of "The Daily Gazette" in the general direction of the Dursleys' yard. Bracing himself, Harry picked up the newspaper and knew, from the first headline, that his sense of dread was correct

**All 7 Members of Local Family Found Dead, Authorities Baffled**

Responding to an anonymous call, emergency forces were called to the scene of the Shaklebunt house at half past midnight Sunday evening. There they found the gruesome scene of Kingsford Shaklebunt, his wife, father, mother, and three children all dead. The situation was made even more unnerving, however, by the fact all 7 bodies were completely unmarked. According to Dr. William Sanders, who performed all the autopsies, there was nothing remotely wrong with any of the members of the Shacklebunt family, apart from the fact they were all dead. This has been only the latest in a series of freak crimes and accidents across England, events which some say have been caused by "other forces"; forces possibly understood directly by the Prime Minister, who has refused all media contact.

Read more on next page

Harry, not really feeling like reading more, set the paper down, thinking. That name, Kingsford Shaklebunt . . . and then his heart sank as he realized- Kingsley Shacklebot, a kind knowledgeable wizard who had worked undercover at the Ministry of Magic, and who had been an Auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry hadn't even known Kingsley had had a family.

_Well,_ he thought bitterly,_ at least they all got to die together._

Harry walked back inside Number 4, dropped the newspaper wordlessly on the living room floor in front of the Dursleys, and continued back to his room to resume his position. His owl, Hedwig, hooted dolefully at him as he entered, but Harry dropped back onto his bed with only a slight sympathetic glance in her direction.

He did not plan on returning to Hogwarts, and yet, as he was amazed to here by word of the Daily Prophet, the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry had not been closed. This article, along with Dumbledore's long obituary, lay among the piles of Harry's belongings strewn across the floor. Harry knew he should pack his trunk in case something, anything, were to arrive and take him to a new life, what ever that might be. Perhaps he could even be taken directly to face Voldemort, and fulfill his destiny, the prophesy that said either he or the Dark Lord must die.

Harry grimaced, all the troublesome thoughts were creating a buzzing in his head, and the buzzing was becoming louder . . .

It took him a few minutes to realize what he heard was not buzzing but music, a low, unearthly music that Harry recognized well, and that was growing louder by the moment.

Then Harry saw a flash of red, orange and gold that in a moment had soared through the open window and landed on the floor.

It took Harry a moment to register what it was, both because of whom it had belonged to, and because Harry had belived he would never see the bird again. His mouth dropped open as he stared at his visitor, who stared back with a solemn, but familiarly placid, and almost amused look in its large black eyes. When he found his voice, Harry gasped.

"_Fawkes?_"


	2. Familiar Places, Familiar Face

**Chapter 2: Familiar Places, Familiar Face**

Harry stared blankly at the bird, the phoenix he'd first met in Dumbledore's office, and who had saved his life at the end of that same year, more than 4 years ago. After Dumbledore's murder at the end of last term, Fawkes had taken flight in the most beautiful and haunting lament Harry had ever heard, never, or so he thought, to be seen again.

And yet the creature was here, and Harry had no doubt it was the one he knew so well. Even as Harry blinked and began to wonder what in the world could be going on, Fawkes glided to the floor, picked a set of Harry's robes up in his talons, and flew to Harry's trunk, depositing the scarlet garment inside. The phoenix then returned to the window and gave Harry an unmistakably expectant look.

Understanding without knowing what was going on, and acting without thinking; Harry sprang up and began to move like haywire, throwing things into his trunk. He didn't stop to consider whether this could be some sort of trap. Honestly, he probably would have gone even if he'd known it had been. He would do anything to get away from Privet Drive now, even if it meant forgoing all safety. After all, he would be facing his own death in the eye soon anyway . . .

When trunk was slammed shut, and Hedwig was locked in her cage, Harry finally stopped to give some thought to what he was doing. His first thought was that Dumbledore would be ashamed of him for acing so rashly, but Harry sighed and shook his head. Dumbledore was gone now and circumstances had changed beyond his control.

"Alright," Harry said out load, his voice strangely calm. "Alright."

Now, though, he faced the issue of how he was going to carry all his things. He knew perfectly well Fawkes could carry the weight, considering the magical creature had once flown himself, Ron, Ron's sister Ginny (Harry felt an odd sensation in his stomach remembering her), and the self-centered professor Lockhart from the Chamber of Secrets. But how was Harry to manage all his things on a journey of unknown length, while one of his hands held to Fawkes's leg?

At last Harry decided to set Hedwig free from her cage, and have her fly alongside them. He took her empty cage, and using the length of rope that had once held his living Care of Magical Creatures book shut (The book had now fitted well into one of Dudley's old socks), he tied the cage to one handle of his trunk and took hold of the other himself.

Harry paused at the window and took one last look at his Muggle home. As much as he despised the place, he felt an odd kind of pain. Even if he was alive in a year, he would probably never see this place again. On an impulse, Harry reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. He stared blankly at the white sheet for a long time, then scrawled simply:

Dear Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon

I'm leaving. Don't expect to see me again, for which I suppose you'll be happy. Hope Dudley doesn't miss me too much.

Harry paused, debating with himself, and eventually, although he felt almost disgusted with himself to do it, added:

Thank you for giving me a place to live and for protecting me. There's nothing you can do now, even though I suspect you wouldn't help me even if you could.

Farewell, your nephew,

Harry Potter

Harry left the note on his desk, cast one last look around the room, telling himself he was checking to see if he'd forgotten anything. He took hold of Fawkes's leg, closed his eyes, and felt himself be lifted off his floor, out the window, and away from the Muggle world one last time as Hedwig soared alongside. That was it. It was that fast. He was gone, now, and he knew it, forever.

Harry soon lost track of time as they flew. He could see his trunk below him, felt the cool metal in his hand, but felt no weight. On an on they flew, a snowy owl and a great phoenix dangling a teenage boy from his foot. Harry fought an odd desire to laugh, suddenly very glad it was dark.

He supposed he had actually begun to nod off, when his stomach soared into his throat and he realized they were headed for the ground. Panicking slightly, Harry prepared himself for the impact, but Fawkes leveled out as they approached the ground. Harry's trunk was grazing the grass, then his feet. He let go of Fawkes's leg, and stumbled gently to the ground on his knees. He paused to catch his breath, then attempted to look up through the darkness and realize where they'd come. A large, somehow familiar building rose in front of him, and Harry squinted up at it, thinking hard . . .

His breath caught in his throat. He knew exactly where they were. Number 12, Gimmauld Place.

Had Harry thought the old house has been in bad shape when it had belonged to his now-dead godfather, Sirius Black, Harry now gained a whole new appreciation for the term "destruction". Pieces of furniture lay on their sides everywhere, empty dishes and mouse bones covered the floor, cobwebs clung to every corner, and everything was covered in about an inch of dust. Everything except for one large painting. Harry fumbled for a light switch, found one, and turned it on. A single bulb lit, dangling from the ceiling by an old rusty chain.

Harry stepped forward to examine the painting, and froze instantly. It wasn't a work of art at all, but a very real portrait. And there, moving around, plain as day, was-

"Hello, Harry," said Albus Dumbledore pleasantly. "I'm so glad you could come."


	3. He Will Never Truly Be Gone

**Chapter 3: He Will Never Truly Be Gone**

Harry stared. After a moment, some part of his mind registered that he was standing stock-still with his jaw hanging open, and told him he ought to try and speak.

"Aannnnnngh . . .", _Brilliant_. Harry cleared his throat and tried again.

"Sir?" he asked weakly "Professor Dumbledore?" Dumbledore smiled kindly

"Yes, Harry, as of the last I was aware, I was myself" He gazed in an amused but understanding way at Harry. "I understand this must be a bit of a shock, although I am disappointed you didn't realize it would take a great deal more than death to get rid of me completely."

"I knew that. I told the Minister that." Harry said automatically, surprised at his own defensiveness. He had indeed told Rufus Scrigemour that Dumbledore would never truly be gone so long as others ho remained were loyal to him, after Dumbledore had been murdered. To his surprise, though, Dumbledore just shook his head, still smiling.

"Ah Harry. But you said that because I said that. In fact, I think those were the exact words I used back in your second year. And you didn't truly believe it". He held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth to object. "No, Harry, you did not. You are not to blame, of course, death is not something well understood by the youthful mind. While I'm sure you hoped there would be some presence of me left, you wouldn't, couldn't, and didn't want to believe it, because you could be so sorely disappointed."

Harry swallowed, wanting to object, but Dumbledore had been exactly right. How many times had he dreamt of Dumbledore, seeing the headmaster alive and well, only to awaken to the cold truth.

"Yes sir" Dumbledore gave Harry a sympathetic look.

"Harry, Harry, it's nothing to be ashamed about. Frankly, I was touched you would even defend the possibility of my existence in any form. But Harry", Dumbledore became suddenly serious. His eyes still twinkled, but it was obvious there was a reason Harry was here "we have matters to discuss. There are things you believe that aren't quite accurate, and there are many things you need to know. I would suggest going down to the kitchen and making a cup of tea. This will be a long discussion."

"Er" said Harry. "Alright. So I'll just . . ."

"Meet me in the living room said Dumbledore brightly, and, before Harry could say or ask anything, he stood up and strode from the portrait, leaving it blank.

Slowly, still not registering what had just happened, and acting as though his body were on auto-pilot, Harry turned and walked down the hall. He entered the kitchen, and had only just identified the large, dusty, lump on the stove as a teapot before he was hit square in the legs by a large fast something, and toppled over..

"Harry Potter!" gasped a high, squeaky voice Harry recognized instantly.

"Dobby?" he mumbled.

"Yes, sir!" squeaked the house-elf joyously, "It is your Dobby once again!" He detached himself from Harry's ankles and shuffled his feat awkwardly. "Dobby is sorry sir, that he did not continue to follow through to work a Hogwarts. But Harry Potter never officially ordered that, and when Dobby heard of headmaster Dumbledore's passing, he wondered what he would do, for he could never stay at the school then." Dobby looked briefly grief-stricken, but then his eyes lit up. "And then, just as Dobby was thinking he should have to live alone, what should happen? Why, the headmaster himself shows up just for Dobby! And he gives special orders to work here, saying that Dobby will soon see Harry Potter again! And low and behold, here is the boy who lived, the boy who saved Dobby!"

Harry stood dumbfounded. He didn't know whether he had ever heard the elf speak so much all at once before.

"Er, yes: he said awkwardly "Fawkes brought me here." He paused for a moment. "Er . . .Dobby? Professor Dumbledore, he . . .d'you know why he-" Harry stopped and shook his head. "He said there were things he had to discuss with me." Dobby became suddenly grave.

"Oh yes, sir, yes. It is Harry Potter's final year at Hogwarts and the prophesy must come to pass" Dobby said sadly. "And Dumbledore knows things that Harry Potter must know, things that might give him some hope in facing the Dark Lord, and things that are different than what Harry Potter believes" Dobby fell silent, mopping his face

"Right." Harry said "That's what he said. Well, not in so many words. Um, look Dobby, I'm supposed to-"

"Oh! Yes! And Dobby was supposed to make tea!" Dobby gasped abruptly. He bolted up, and pointed at the teapot. It rose and shook itself like a dog, shaking the dust loose, then settled itself on the stove again. The burner turned on just as several drawers flew open. A few teabags flew across the room into the open pot, followed by a stream of water that jumped all the was from the sink's faucet to the pot completely of its own accord. In a minute, the teapot began to whistle loudly. Harry found himself slack-jawed for the second time in the hour.

Er . . .thanks Dobby" said. The teapot suddenly flew toward him, was joined in midair by a platter and teacups. The pot and cups settled themselves on the platter, and the whole thing landed lightly in Harry's hands. "Well, I have to go . . .so I'll talk to you later.

Harry strode quickly from the room. He had forgotten just how much power house-elves had. He entered what he decided had to be the living room. A tall, blank picture frame was on the wall with a table and chair in front of it. Just as Harry sat down, Dumbledore entered the picture carrying a chair, which he set down and sat on.

"So Harry" he said in a hurried, no-nonsense voice. Our first matter of business is what happened at the castle last year. I know what you believe about Professor Snape-" As though Dumbledore's simple had set him on fire, Harry felt an animalistic rage come to him, and he rose.

"I'll kill him!" Harry snarled, the anger that had come from nowhere bubbling over uncontrolled!"

"No" said Dumbledore simply.

"Sir!" Harry yelled desperately " I know you trust him, but he killed you! In cold fucking blood!"

"Calm yourself Harry" said Dumbledore. "What we see is not always what we must believe. You heard what I was saying as Professor Snape performed the Avada Kedavra spell.

"Yes! You were . . .begging him not to kill you . . ." Harry closed his eyes. The memory burned his heart. But hen Dumbledore spoke again, he sounded almost offended

"Harry, do honestly believe I would ever beg for my life?" Harry looked up. He wanted to yell, and scream, but as he couldn't speak, he waited.

"Professor Snape did exactly what I wanted" Dumbledore said softly. "Harry, I was not begging Severus to let my live, I was simply asking him . . .asking him to kill me


	4. Of Snape and Unbreakable vows

**Chapter 4: Of Snape and Unbreakable Vows**

Silence followed Dumbledore's words. Harry's mind seemed to have stopped. Dumbledore had _asked_ Snape to kill him? That couldn't be right, it couldn't be.

"I can't believe that." Harry said flatly. All he could imagine was that now, even when Dumbledore had been sent to his death by Snape, he still felt some inexplicable reason to defend the man who had taken his life from him. Dumbledore sighed.

"I was afraid your prejudices against Snape would block you from accepting the truth" Harry again fought to keep his emotions in check, but couldn't prevent the words that flew from his mouth

"Sir, he-"

"Harry." There was no anger in Dumbledore's voice, but there was a kind of sharpness Harry had never heard before. The words stopped in his throat and died as Dumbledore closed his eyes before beginning to speak again in a calm voice. "Harry, what I'm telling you, I know, is a shock to hear, and seems ridiculous. But Harry, I am far older, and yes, far wiser than you. Even when I'm not alive." He smiled slightly "I've known you since you were a baby, and you've known me for six years. By now you must be aware that I am well aware of everything I say and do. Harry, I just need you to listen to me. I need you to trust me."

Harry swallowed hard. How was it possible to argue with Dumbledore? He nodded, and sat down, unable to put anything of what he was thinking into words.

"What I'm about to tell you Harry, is one of many things that will remain between the two of us alone. I already know I can trust you completely, so simply let tell the story of what happened last year."

"Our story begins, as most tales I will tell you do, with Lord Voldemort. And with your infamous enemy, Draco Malfoy. Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, is, of course, a Death Eater. And, true to his leader, Lucius made sure Malfoy would be inducted to the same position. This was during the time many believed Voldemort to be dead. But Lucius knew, or at least, believed, that the Dark Lord would rise again. He was one of the most loyal followers. Perhaps that is why his son was chosen . . ." Dumbledore's voice faded off for a moment before he continued.

"After the events of the Dark Lord's return, chaos ensued. As you well know, Lucius now resides in a cell in Azkaban. It is my belief that Voldemort had selected him to be the one to commit his most important murder- mine- and that when Lucius became unusable, he turned to the next best option at the time."

"Lucius's heir." Harry murmured. "His son" None of what he was hearing was too shocking to him yet. He knew only too well that Draco had tried to kill Dumbledore and been unable to before Snape had taken over.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "Draco. The duty of eliminating me was a huge honor that could only be given to a very high-up pureblood. But it was also nearly certainly fatal, and Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother was terrified of putting her only son at the mercy of someone who had no mercy. You see Harry, the key reason Voldemort did not take over the wizarding world in the blink of an eye is that there is too much love in the world. Harry, remember this, you must understand it-_even Death Eaters love_. And, because they do, Lord Voldemort will never be able to take them over completely."

Harry stared back at Dumbledore. He was obviously supposed to know that for a reason, but why? Were they actually going to try to bring Death Eaters back to their side?

"Alas, though, we're gotten off the point" Dumbledore said, as though suddenly remembering what he'd been talking about. "Anyway, Narcissa, terrified for her child, sank to desperate measures. She called Severus Snape to her house, knowing full well it was against her sister's wishes."

"Narcissa presented her case to Severus. Or rather, she begged him to help, trembling at his feet and grasping at his robes. Whether it was just to get rid of her, or because he felt some kind of pity for the plight of a mother, we don't know. What we do know is that on that night, shortly before the start of your sixth year at Hogwarts, Snape took an Unbreakable Vow. He promised that he would take over for Draco if the need arose, that, if he had to, he would commit the murder entitled to Malfoy by the Dark Lord."

Harry froze, and blinked. So Snape had killed Dumbledore because he had to? Because of some promise? It just didn't seem right.

"An Unbreakable Vow is a powerful thing, Harry" Dumbledore told Harry, catching the question in his eyes. "Had Snape broken it, he would have died. Snape was still a spy to me, though, and he knew I would want him to accept the Vow, as it would bring him closer to Voldemort. You see, I already knew everything that was going to happen. I knew Malfoy would spend the entire year debating with himself, and I knew that in the end, he would of course be unable to kill me himself. You saw how easily I kept him from doing so simply with words" Dumbledore smiled again, as though pleased with himself. "I knew Snape would have to kill me. And I wanted him to because he had to. Not only because it would have been his own death not to, but because it would seal him into a very high position with the Dark Lord. Snape is the Order of the Phoenix's most powerful spy, and now he is giving them information that only he can find out, information that will ultimately be a key in your victory against Voldemort. It meant my death, but without the things we know, we'd have very little chance of winning this war."

Harry's mind had stopped again. First Dumbledore had wanted to die, and now Snape was a spy for their side? It felt as though everything he had believed was being turned upside-down. He hated Snape, as he was supposed to. And Dumbledore had left Harry when he needed him most. It wasn't right, it couldn't be . . .but it had to be. Harry sighed, his brain hurting. It was going to take a long time to fully accept everything he'd heard. He and Dumbledore sat in silence for what felt like hours. Finally, Harry cleared his throat.

"There's just one thing I don't understand, sir," he said quietly. "Why Snape? Why did Narcissa pick _Snape_ to do Malfoy's job?" Dumbledore actually seemed surprised for a moment.

"Do you not know, Harry? I thought you did. Snape is Draco's godfather."


	5. Half and Pure

**Chapter 5: Half and Pure**

Harry blinked. What surprised him the most was that he _didn't_ feel shocked to hear this news. It was absurd, it was hard to believe- and yet it made sense.

"How- when- how did that happen?" Harry asked, his voice sounding weaker than he meant it to. Dumbledore chuckled.

"It's a bit of a long story. In summary, the Snape and Malfoy families have known each other for ages. There is a bond between them that is rather legendary in the pure-blood world. When Draco was born, there were only a few candidates the right age to be able to care for Malfoy if that became necessary. But to Lucius and Narsissa, there was only one choice- Severus Snape.

Harry had suddenly remembered something

"But sir!" he cried "Snape is a HALF-BLOOD! He was the Half-Blood Prince!" he told me so himself!"

"Ah, yes, yes" Dumbledore said, looking inexplicably happy all of a sudden. And that is one of the greatest marks of my ability to protect information. I know that, and you know that, but the Malfoys, and yes, Harry, the Dark Lord himself- do _not_."

"But-" Harry sputtered "But sir, Snape is sold on the whole "pure-bloods only at Hogwarts" deal! He's just like the rest of them, hating anyone who isn't of- 'royal blood', and-"

"So it has appeared, hasn't it?" asked Dumbledore, still smiling "Harry, do you honestly thing Snape would be our best spy if he couldn't deceive his own students? He knew perfectly well that if he gave any hints of accepting anyone who wasn't of pure blood, his position would be destroyed instantly. It's likely Voldemort would have discovered his ruse at once and had Snape killed"

"So . . . So . . ." Harry murmured. For some reason, we was desperate to prove that Snape had to be a pure-blood; had to be just like the Malfoys- overconfident and nasty and-

"You see, Harry, the reason no one outside of a few selected individuals know that Snape is half-blood is that all records show that he is of all-wizarding background" Dumbledore was continuing as though he had not heard Harry, but Harry caught a warning glance. He bit his tongue.

"Snape's father was an odd sort, Harry. He was married to a very rich and beautiful pure-blood witch who loved him dearly. And yet he never felt . . . er . . ._ fulfilled_ by her. And so he would sneak out at night to meet with many other women. All types he would meet with, pretending to be madly in love with them for one night, making them promise not to tell anyone what he was doing, and then erasing their memories. The one problem with his little 'game' was that he didn't check the background of the woman he was with, and it just so happened that one- the only one who happened to get pregnant, I might add- was a Muggle"

Harry felt sick. "So Snape. Snape is a b-"

"Yes." Said Dumbledore, cutting off Harry, who felt his cheeks go red. "It's rather like that Muggle television program. What is it called? Jerrald Sprinner, or-?"

"Jerry Springer." Said Harry quietly, and then, realizing what he's said, felt his blush increase several hundred times.

"Yes. Well. Anyway" Dumbledore continued quickly. "The point of the matter is, the poor young Muggle woman was pregnant. And she tried to hide the baby- Severus- from his father. But I few weeks after the child was born, his father found out." Dumbledore sighed deeply. "The Muggle police never did understand when the poor girl turned up dead." Harry couldn't help it- he gasped aloud.

"You mean" he whispered "you _don't_ mean that- that Snape's father-"

"Killed his own child's mother, yes." Said Dumbledore quietly, sadly. And then he took his child home to his wife." Dumbledore's voice was grave and tinged with sarcasm "The situation was perfect. His wife had been pressuring for adoption, because she herself couldn't seem to become pregnant. When he brought Snape home, she thought he was making her dream come true."

Harry closed his eyes. The gruesome details kept flashing over and over in his mind. A man killing his child's mother, and taking the child to his wife. .. He sat still for a while before Dumbledore sighed and stood within his portrait.

"That, Harry, is all I can tell you at the moment. You will know more later, when the time is right. It won't be long, of course. But for now" he smiled weakly "For now you should get some sleep. You will need to buy your school things tomorrow."

And with that, he strode from the canvas and was gone.


	6. Diagonilly

Chapter 6: Diagonilly

Harry didn't sleep well that night. For nearly an hour, the thoughts and silent debates running through his head kept him awake. When he finally did drift off, he was plagued by vague dreams in which he could hear a woman screaming and a baby crying. When he was awoken the next morning by the sound of an alarm clock, followed closely by the sound of Hedwig screeching, and then the feel of a breakfast tray being thrust upon his chest by an eager Dobby, he felt as though he had not slept at all.

"Harry Potter must have a full breakfast sir, because Harry Potter is going to have a full day!" Dobby squeaked in his thoroughly over-excited way as Harry blinked at the food in front of him. There were 2 eggs with bacon and sausage, a pile of pancakes, and a tall glass of orange juice. Harry felt himself cringe.

"Um . . . it looks great, Dobby, but I'm really not that hungry-"Harry started, then broke off abruptly at the instant downcast look in the house elf's eyes.

"Er . . . but . . . oh, what the heck! It looks too good to resist!" Harry lied enthusiastically, forcing a smile. Trying to force down the feeling of sickness in his stomach, he took the knife and fork, cut himself a huge bite of pancakes, and shoved it into his mouth, trying not to gag even though the food was delicious. Thrilled, Dobby gave Harry a little bow and scampered from the room. At once Harry set the food aside.

His mind was still moving at a mile a minute, and, combined with lack of sleep, the thoughts were giving him an incredible headache. Discretely, he picked up his wand and made the food vanish, except for the orange juice, which he drank quickly to get rid of the taste in his mouth.

An hour later, he was washed up and dresses, and was standing downstairs, again in front of the portrait in which he had spoken to Dumbledore the previous night. Dumbledore was there again, speaking in a distracted and hurried way.

"Now, Harry, this will be the first time you will be going into Diagon-" he paused for a moment as though he were going to tell Harry something before continuing "Into Diagon Alley alone. It's no more dangerous than anywhere else these days, but all the same, I cannot stress enough that you must _keep up your guard_" He looked Harry in the eyes, and Harry nodded nervously.

Dumbledore went on, his voice both unusually sharp, and more exhausted than normal "You need to buy your books and new robes. You're lucky. Both of those stores are still open. Both of their owners are still-"Dumbledore broke off and sighed. "Hedwig and your things will be sent to the Inn. You will stay there under the guard of Arthur and Molly Weasley"

Harry looked up, surprised. Dumbledore smiled "Yes, Harry, they are waiting for you, and are quite eager to see you, too. Now, you'll need to be on your way. There is an old newspaper on the front porch. That is a port key. It will take you to the entrance."

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again "Yes, sir." Dumbledore sighed. When he spoke, it was obvious he was forcing the good-natured tone in his voice. Harry could hear it trembling.

"This is the last time I will see you for a while, my boy" Dumbledore whispered. "You . . . you will see a lot things that-"his voice broke "That will be hard on you, but I trust you to be strong, Harry. You will need to be strong" Dumbledore turned away, and Harry could feel his breath catching in his throat.

"I will." Dumbledore turned back to him, and Harry felt his legs go weak and his heart wrench. There were tears in the old man's eyes that he was trying and failing to blink back. Dumbledore gently placed his palm against his side of the portrait, and Harry placed his against it, or at least, against the veil that separated them.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter" Dumbledore said, and Harry turned, eyes stinging, and left.

There was indeed an old newspaper by the front porch. Harry knelt down to touch it half-heartedly. At once he felt a jerk below his naval. Sights and sounds passed him in a blur, and, before he could comprehend anything, he was standing in front of the old, familiar wall that opened to Diagon Alley.

For a moment, Harry panicked, his wand dangling from his fingers. He knew there was a pattern of bricks to tap to get in, but he had no idea what it was. He tried to send his memory back all the way to the fateful day six years ago when Hagrid had tapped the bricks, but nothing came to him.

Biting his lip, Harry set his wand on a random brick on the wall, thinking with all his might for a random scrap of information. But, before he could even envision anything in his mind, he felt a strange, tingling sensation in his hand, and, all at once, he felt his arm move on its own, touching the wand to a pattern of bricks.

The bricks began to move, forming a hole that grew larger and larger. As the hole began to become large enough to see through, the wall said

"Welcome . . . to Diagonilly" Harry spun around

"Wha- Diagon_illy_?" Harry whispered. The wall spoke again, and it sounded tired and sad, almost as Dumbledore had. It only spoke two words.

"Turn around"

Harry did, and at once, he gasped. Diagon Alley was nothing as to what he remembered it to be. Every other store down the block had its windows smashed in. Nearly every building was closed. Graffiti smeared the walls everywhere Harry turned. He recognized a crudely drawn Dark Mark.

Olivander's had been looted. At he walked past the demolished storefront, Harry looked inside, and saw all the bookshelves tipped over. Most of the wands were gone, and those that remained were scattered on the floor.

Harry walked past the ice cream shop. The tables were all tipped over, and the signs, which Floritean himself had spent so long painting, were smashed against the ground. The ground itself was littered with trash.

Diagon Alley was a ghost town of what it had once been.

Harry sighed deeply. Already these were the effects of the Dark Lord's doing. Already even familiar, comforting places were falling apart. Already the world was turning against itself.

Harry closed his eyes, wanting to block out the scene in front of him, trying to replace it with some kind of pleasant scene. With Ron and Hermione . . .

"HARRY!" Harry's eyes flew open, and he looked around frantically. After a moment, his eyes were met with the joyous confirmation that he was not imagining things.

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were running toward him down the beat-up street.


	7. Formal Wear and Confusion

**Chapter 7: Formal Wear and Confusion**

Harry stopped, and a moment later was tackled and blinded by Hermione's hair filling up his vision.

"Harry, oh Harry, thank goodness! Oh, we didn't get to hear anything about where you were or what you were doing! They kept telling us you were okay, but we didn't know, and-"

"I'm fine!" Harry pulled himself out from under Hermione and sat up "and who's 'they'"? Hermione shrugged "Just different people from the order. They're still keeping tabs on you, you know." Harry sighed and nodded, then looked up at Ron.

"Hey, mate, long time no see." Ron said, grinning.

"Not much. And you?" Harry replied, smiling as well. "Why are you two here, anyway" Ron made a face.

"Buying 'formal wear'" he groaned. "Mum's going insane about how perfect we all have to look." Harry stared blankly at them.

"Formal wear? Look perfect? For what?" Hermione raised her eyebrows

'Bill and Fluer's wedding, of course" she said, glancing at Harry. "You did remember didn't you?"

"Er…" He hadn't. He hadn't given any time to thinking about anything other than his own situation until now. Hermione sighed.

"Honestly, you are so-"she broke off and rolled her eyes "Anyway, we were supposed to find you and bring you over to get fitted. C'mon, Mrs. Weasley's being impatient."

She grabbed Harry by the elbow, and started down the street. Ron ran a moment to catch up with them, and started walking in stride with Hermione. After a moment, he casually took her hand. Harry caught his eyes and raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah well, y'know" Ron murmured, his face turning red. "We just were spending a lot of time together and we thought, y'know, that we'd give it a try." Harry nodded diplomatically and glanced over at Hermione, who was staring hard at the ground, a pink tinge starting on her cheeks. Still, Harry noticed, she was wearing a smile a mile wide.

The moment they reached the robe shop, things happened so fast Harry barely had time to comprehend them. A frantic Mrs. Weasley only took enough time to say

"Hello dear, how are you? We've missed you." before hastily dragging him into the shop. Within 15 minutes, he was being pulled off the stool again and out of the store so that Ron could be fitted next.

Outside, Harry was finally able to glance at the ensemble in his arms. It looked like some odd cross between dress robes and a tuxedo, black and indeed very formal-looking.

"Awful, aren't they?" asked a voice. Harry looked up and froze. Ginny Weasley stood before him. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"Hi, Harry" Ginny said softly, giving him a half-smile.

"Er…hi, G-Ginny" Harry sputtered weakly. He still remembered the end of last year, at Dumbledore's funeral, ending things with her. Or trying to, anyway. He gulped.

"So how are you?" she asked quietly.

"Fine" he murmured, and immediately wanted to kick himself. _Fine? Is that all you can say. Get over it! Says something, anything!_

"Um…you look great!" he half-shouted. _What? What! You idiot! Why did you have to say that! Of all the things you could have said to the girl, who first off all is your best mate's sister, and then who you were dating but broke up with to keep her safe- you look great! Moron! _Meanwhile, Ginny actually blushed slightly.

"Thanks, Harry, so do you." Harry choked and felt his face growing hot,

"Erm, thanks. I, um, I-"

"I missed you." Ginny said suddenly, quietly, cutting him off. Harry blinked, still frozen, unable to speak. He swallowed hard, but before he could think of a response, Ginny continued. "It's just been hard, you know. Worrying about you, remembering what we had…" she faded off. Harry looked down at the ground, then back up at her.

"Ginny, I-"

"I still care about you" she said, her voice trembling slightly. Harry could tell she'd been wanting to say this for a long time. "And I think you feel the same way, too, regardless of my safety" Harry gulped again. They were inches apart now, and he could look into her eyes.

"I do" he said softly before he could stop himself. "But I…it's just…" he gave up. She stared at him for another moment, and then started to lean towards him, tilting her face up toward his-

"Ugh!" Ron's voice made them leap apart. He strode from Madam Malkin's, glaring in disgust at his own clothing. "Can you believe these things? They're even worse than my dress robes!" he stopped walking and looked at Harry and Ginny. "What have you two been doing?' he asked, already beginning to smirk slightly.

"N-nothing!" Ginny squeaked. "Nothing at all!" she ran off. Ron grinned at Harry.

"Nothing, eh?" Feeling his face burning, Harry glared at him.

"Yes, nothing. Which I'm sure is less than what you and Hermione are up to." Ron actually gasped, but a moment later, shook his head and laughed.

"I won't deny anything." He said, giving Harry a look "C'mon, let's go get out books." He turned and ran down the street, and after a moment, Harry followed him. He sighed. That moment with Ginny hadn't been nothing by any means. But he couldn't be with her. It was impossible. Even if he did love her.


End file.
